Imminent Danger: And How to Fly Straight Into It (14 page)

“I put through documents authorizing your transfer to a secure facility for further experimentation. By the time they uncover the ruse, we will be long gone. We will go first to Psilos. From there, the Claktill will be sent to the nearest Claktilli colony ship and you, human, will be returned to your planet.”

Miguri snorted. “I will need to have a discussion with your superiors if their master plan involves sending me to live with a Claktilli colony. I am not currently on speaking terms with my species.”

“As you wish,” Alyra said.

Eris crossed her arms. “You realize this whole scheme of yours could go wrong in
so
many ways?”

“This plan was designed by expert Psilosian strategists at IFTAP headquarters. There is no possible way it can go awry.”

Hope somehow failed to rise in Eris’s weary heart. “Have you ever heard of the
Titanic?”

“No,” Alyra said. “Should I have?”

“It was a ship designed to be unsinkable.”

“That was well planned.”

“It sank.”

“How tragic.”

Eris frowned. “Are you seeing any parallels here?”

“Should I be?”

“Forget it.”

For a boxy monstrosity, the Trastix VII was remarkably fast. The square, silver furniture inside was, in Eris’s opinion, incredibly uncomfortable, not to mention tacky. But Alyra seemed perfectly at home perched on the edge of the stiff, angular pilot’s chair.

As soon as they were clear of Alpha Centauri Prime, Eris raced to the cleanser to strip off her coveralls. She let out a heartfelt moan as the dry shower peeled the dirt away from her fair skin, even paler now that she’d been locked up inside for weeks.
At least I don’t need extra time to wash my hair, seeing as there’s none of it left,
she thought, grimacing.

Stepping out of the dry shower, Eris felt a sudden rush of anger toward Varrin.
This mess is all his fault!
And he actually had the nerve to say “no hard feelings” when he handed me over to Alyra. Unbelievable! If I ever see him again, I’ll show him no hard feelings!

Eris started to reach for her coveralls and then abruptly changed her mind.
No way I’m ever wearing those again,
she thought
.

“Alyra?” Eris called.

The Psilosian appeared a moment later. She looked at the bald human girl peeking out from the cleanser, and then blinked a short melody.

Eris had no idea what Alyra was saying. “What are you—oh, right! I took off my lamri.” She grabbed the lamri necklace from her pile of discarded clothes and put it on.

“You require garments,” Alyra hummed.

“Yes,” Eris said. She glanced at the alien’s long robes, which, while very regal, looked like something out of a Shakespearean play. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any clothes that aren’t, uh, robes?”

Alyra tilted her head. “You dislike my garments? They are very fashionable on Psilos this decade.”

“They’re lovely,” Eris said quickly. “Forget I said anything.” The alien tilted her head to the other side. Just as Eris was reconsidering the blue Chakra coveralls, Alyra turned around and pulled a bundle of shimmery cloth from one of the storage lockers.

“Then, if it pleases you, you may wear these,” Alyra said. “I will adjust them for you.”

“Um, sure. Thanks.”

Alyra exited the room, and for several minutes, Eris could hear the faint sound of machinery humming. When the Psilosian returned, she handed the bundle to Eris.

“Thanks,” Eris said and shut the cleanser door. Pulling on the garment, she found that it was ankle length and constructed of many layers of colorful, diaphanous material.
I must look like a princess,
she thought, leaving the cleanser.
Albeit one with terrible fashion sense.

“Alyra,” Eris began as she smoothed down the robes with both hands, “I’ve been meaning to ask you …”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about. I mean, it’s sort of been bothering me. Remember on Alpha Centauri when you bought us from Varrin?”

“Of course.”

“Just before he left, you sang something to him, and then he told me, ‘No hard feelings.’”

“Yes, I recall that.”

“What did you say to him?”

Alyra steepled her long fingers together. “I told him I perceived the actions he had taken to bring you to me had caused you emotional distress. I suggested he offer you some words of comfort or perhaps an apology before committing you to my care.”

“He was selling me to you, and the best apology he could come up with was ‘No hard feelings’?” Eris was almost speechless with rage. “The next time I see him, I’m going to—”

“The Rakorsian has not returned, has he?” Miguri trilled as he scrambled into the cabin.

“No. And lucky for him,” Eris grumbled. Then she noticed Miguri was also wearing new clothes. But unlike Eris’s flowing robes, his garment was short, coarse, and brown. “Um … nice outfit?”

“I could not easily fit any of my own clothing to one of such small stature,” Alyra explained, “so I converted one of the laundry bags to a makeshift garment.”

Eris hadn’t realized her new clothing was Alyra’s. “Thank you,” she said for the third time.

“Think nothing of it,” Alyra said regally. “Consider it my apology for leaving you in the laboratory for such an extended period.”

Yeah,
Eris thought,
like an outfit really makes up for the mental and physical trauma you put us through. What’s with these aliens and their grossly inadequate apologies?
But she held her tongue.

They retired to the Trastix VII’s lounge. Eris found it was markedly different from the one on Varrin’s ship. While the
Nonconformity
’s rec room held several quasicomfortable seats as well as a game table and a vid-screen, this one was stark and sterile with no diversions of any kind. Eris began to wonder how they would spend their time during the upcoming trip to Psilos.
Oh, come on, Eris,
she chastised herself.
Compared to a prison cell, this is paradise.

Alyra settled down on one of the hard chairs and arranged her robes artfully around her. Eris felt a sudden rush of appreciation for the stoic alien and her methodical ways.
She did save our lives, after all,
Eris thought.
Never mind that she delivered us into that hell hole in the first place. But at least she did right by us in the end.

“Are there any holo-screens in here?” Miguri asked, opening a cabinet door.

“Psilosians have no need for such mind-numbing pastimes,” Alyra said. “We prefer more intellectual pursuits. One of our greatest pleasures is reciting poetry inspired by epic, historic tales of valor and cunning.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “Shall we do that now?” Before her passengers could reply, she turned to Eris and added, “You may begin, human.”

“I’m not really one for poetry,” Eris demurred.

“Come now.” Miguri grinned, hair fluffed up in amusement. “I would very much like to hear your poetry.”

Eris glared at him. “I don’t really know any poems.”

“All species have poetry of some sort,” Alyra declared. “Share with us humanity’s finest.”

Feeling incredibly awkward, Eris wracked her brain for a poem she could recite without butchering it horrendously. Because she didn’t like poetry, she had never bothered to read very much of it. She had studied Hamlet in English Lit. class the previous semester, though, so she chose the one piece of poetry she could remember.

“To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the outrageous slings of … assorted pointy projectiles … or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.” She thought herself doing rather well.
Bring it home, Eris.
“To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream? Aye, there’s the …” She ran out of words. “There’s the calamity of our … mortal coil …”

Miguri began to giggle.

“Do shut up,” Eris snapped.

She and Miguri fell silent when they saw that Alyra’s big eyes were filling with tears. “To die, to sleep,” the Psilosian said slowly. “Such depth, such perception of the harsh, unchanging reality of our lives! And your delivery—so raw and passionate!”

“You liked that?” Eris said. “Wait until you hear the real thing.”

15

O
n their third day out from Alpha Centauri Prime, while Eris and Miguri were napping in the lounge, the intercom crackled to life.

“It is time for the Pull,” Alyra announced. “Please strap yourselves in while I prepare the ship.”

“She’s a little too serious sometimes, don’t you think?” Eris said languidly. She had learned over the last three days that their meticulous pilot believed in triple-checking every safety protocol. Eris guessed it would still be at least an hour before they actually Pulled.

“She is Psilosian,” Miguri said, sitting up and stretching out his short limbs.

Eris shot her friend an irritated look as she slowly sat up. She and Miguri had both been a little testy the last day or so with virtually nothing to do but eat, talk, and sleep.

“You know,” she said, “I’m getting a bit peeved with these generic responses. I’ll be like, ‘Why is this person acting this way?’ and you always go, ‘Because she’s Psilosian,’ or, ‘Because he’s Rakorsian.’ A person’s species doesn’t necessarily define everything about—whoa!”

Eris grabbed the edge of her seat as the ship shuddered violently. “What was
that
?”

Miguri didn’t seem concerned. “I am guessing Alyra made an error attuning the ship’s lamri in preparation for the Pull, and that was a backlash. If so, there is no danger to us, although it may have damaged the engines somewhat.” He shrugged. “I am not surprised. Psilosians are notoriously poor pilots.”

Eris scowled. “Again with the generalizations!”

“Generalizations are so called because they are
generally
correct. It is a fact that Psilosians have the highest spaceship repair rate of any civilized species. And as for Rakorsians, need I remind you of our experience with your dear Rakorsian friend?”

“Varrin is
not
my friend,” Eris snapped. “Nor is he dear.”

“That sounds like something Alyra would say,” Miguri teased.

“What can I say? I’m a sponge. I soak up the speech patterns of everyone around me.”

“Then why are you not talking like me?” Miguri sniffed.

Eris laughed. “You just aren’t special enough, I’m afraid.”

“What about me? Am
I
special?” a familiar, taunting voice rumbled from behind them.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me!
Heart suddenly racing, Eris turned around. Standing in the doorway in all his black-clad glory was Varrin, one hand on his hip and a striker held loosely in the other.

“You!” she growled, jumping to her feet. She ran across the room and tried to slap him across the face, but he caught her arm in midswing.

“I could say the same thing,” he replied. His lips twitched in amusement.

“Let me go!”

Varrin released her. “When my current employer asked me to intercept a Chakra Corp. ship that was smuggling illegal cargo out of the system, I had no idea I’d find
you
on it.”

“Why would you care either way?” Miguri snarled. “You sold us out to Chakra in the first place! Why would you care who or what they were illegally transporting?”

“I didn’t sell you out. It was a business deal, rat. Get over it.” Varrin shook his head in a long-suffering manner. “Anyway, the point is that I’ve since resigned from IFTAP and signed on with the Intergalactic Antismuggling Association. IGASA, if you prefer.” He looked at Miguri with curiosity. “And what is
with
you and the anger issues? Claktills are supposed to be cowering and pathetic.”

“Miguri has evolved to a higher state of not being a pacifist pushover,” Eris snapped. “Just tell us why you’re here, and then get lost.”

“Why, to liberate you!” Varrin exclaimed, spreading his hands grandly. “In the name of good, and justice, and all those other sappy causes you law-abiders go on about all the time.”

“We don’t need to be liberated!” she countered. “We’ve done perfectly fine after your betrayal, thank you very much, and we’ll continue doing so without your help.”

“Nevertheless,” he replied brightly, “it’s my duty as an official IGASA agent to free you from the clutches of the malicious Chakra Corporation.”

Miguri’s hair was spiky with agitation. “But we do not want your help!”

“Well, someone has to get you to IGASA headquarters on Psilos,” Varrin reasoned. “How else will you be freed from the evil clutches of … well, of evil? Besides, you don’t want to be on this ship. It’s bound for Ssrisk territory.”

“No, it isn’t!” Eris exclaimed. “This ship is headed for Psilos. Everything is going just peachy, and we don’t need you to interfere.”

The shaggy-haired Rakorsian leaned back against the door frame, looking amused. “Look, terrestrial, this ship’s flight plan shows its destination as Ssriss. I don’t know what story your Chakra pilot told you, but—”